Brothers
by trekbones
Summary: John would do anything. Anything for his clanbrother Rodney. Especially if it meant keeping him from Ancestor Worshippers. Definitely AU.


Title: Brothers

Author: Trekbones

Rating: T

Spoilers: None really other than team dynamics

Pairings: None/Team

Warnings: Whump of course.

Author's Note: Very AU, which is highly unusual for me. This little universe is very twisted around but serves the story, mostly. Otherwise, all mistakes are mine. This came up as a story with the first and last lines already written and I had to fill in the rest of the story. I came up with the lines and the story as a means of keeping occupied at work. This is the result.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to MGM and other associated individuals. Only the story and original characters and settings belong to me.

Break

"What is his name?"

Another fist to his face.

"What is his name?" the interrogator asked. It seemed to be his only question. At least it was now. In the beginning, there were more questions but he answered none of those either. Not that he really could, not after some of the interrogator's "experiments." He wasn't entirely sure it wasn't permanent but there was nothing he could do about it now. Hopefully, when he returned to his people the mage-healers could fix all the damage. Until then, he was silent and the interrogator didn't seem to care or notice that it wasn't a matter of refusing to talk but a matter of being unable to talk. And that it was his fault he was this way.

"What is his name?" again, the interrogator asked before slamming his fist again into John's face. John grunted but made no other sound. The interrogator turned away for a moment and then turned back with one of the devices of the Ancestors in his hand. One of their torture devices. He really didn't like Ancestor worshippers. They were a cruel and evil group who preferred to torture and kill people. The Ancestors had even a religion that exalted them as gods with the necessity of human sacrifice. It may have kept the Wraith at bay once but it was no longer necessary with the Wraith mostly gone or living in peaceful isolation. The Wraith had no need for humans anymore but Ancestor worshippers refused to see that and so continued to hunt and torture people, especially visitors from other worlds.

But he wasn't going to give his clanbrother up. Not to these people. Ancestor worshippers had taken Rodney as a child and John had nearly lost him then. He wouldn't lose him now. He would protect him at all costs. Rodney was safe and protected by their clansister Teyla Emmagan and the warrior of the clan, Ronon Dex. They would let nothing happen to Rodney. They remembered what happened before, had seen with their own eyes when they rescued him. They would always keep him safe.

He would wait for rescue eve if it never came. Not if it meant keeping Rodney away from these people. Rodney's life was more important than his. His brain was really important. The wonders he had achieved, could achieve still. He didn't want that anywhere near Ancestor worshippers. They would kill that curiosity, that drive to create wonders, all as a means of control. John couldn't let that happen to Rodney. That wonder and curiosity (along with his prickly attitude) were all the good things left in John's life. He refused to let them go. And especially not to some totalitarian Ancestor hack wannabes who were more interested in torture and destruction than life and creation. No, he wouldn't say a word.

He would either die or be rescued. In the end, it didn't matter as long as Rodney was safe. Now he was beginning to sound like the mimicker that Rodney had created.

Apparently, the interrogator had gotten bored while John had mused and had decided to move onto shinier, sharper items rather than just fists.

The knife he had selected was one well loved and suited for the next phase of his interrogation. He was going to get the information he wanted even if the source ended up dead. Didn't matter. If it served the purposes of the Ancestors, who cared. And death always served the Ancestors. They fed off pain and suffering and death. The greater the pain, the greater the reward for those who caused it. Serve them well enough and one could become an Ancestor. It was rare but it was possible. And he wanted that for himself. He wanted to become an Ancestor, to revel and drink and glory in the pain and suffering of others. To be worshipped as they were. To be able to cause peoples to rise to glory or fall to ignominy. All because he wanted it.

He took the knife and slid it quickly three successive strokes over John's right arm. John didn't feel the pain immediately but when he did he was able to contain his outburst to a grunt. The interrogator moved onto John's left arm, repeating the process. Again, John was able to contain his reaction to a grunt but dammit it still hurt. He wasn't interested in being carved up like Winter Festival roast beast.

Then the interrogator moved on to John's bare chest. He was going to take his time, not only in making sure to inflict the right amount of pain, but also enough pain to get answers though that wasn't required just yet. This time slow and shallow was better than fast and deep. He wanted the pain to linger.

The interrogator started with John's upper chest, cutting diagonally from the top of John's shoulder across the breast to the sternum. He was careful enough to cut only so deep as to break skin and loose a trickle of blood. Anything more would be too much at this point. He did this on the left side as well.

John was in pain but he had to keep his mouth shut. Oh, he'd give into the pain eventually but he still wouldn't say anything. Not that he really could but this was so worth it, if only to keep Rodney safe.

The interrogator went for another diagonal cut just below the first. This time he didn't stop at the sternum. This time he went down all the way to John's stomach. And this time he cut deeper, to bleed more but not all the way through to organs. That was late, if all else failed. But not till then. Now, it was about pain and bloodletting. Those mage-healers didn't know anything about blood or falsely accusing it of carrying disease. Blood was life and especially when it was food for the Ancestors. Blood was life and death, not disease. Those who refused to worship the Ancestors were lost anyways. Why quibble over what they called blood when they were only going to be fed to the Ancestors eventually? They may not worship them now but they would feed the Ancestors in the next life. As long as they served the Ancestors' purpose, it did not matter.

The interrogator decided to move on to the stomach. A little sooner than normal but he was rankled by the fact that this heretic had not yet talked. Nor had he shown any sort of discomfort. He wanted the unbeliever to scream.

Interrogator Marrenl pushed the lever that shifted the seat John Sheppard was tied to and converted it to a horizontal surface. Ah, better access. Now time for the fun to begin. This time he was going to put feesla juice on the cuts he made to increase and prolong the pain. Feesla juice was the strongest, most potent liquid that Marrenl knew to exist. It set nerve endings on fire, kept wounds open, and kept the blood flowing from the wound. Even better it burned the wounds open nearly indefinitely though it depended on the concentration of the feesla juice. The weakest could still burn but pure feesla juice could flay a man alive.

Marrenl took a small jar of the more potent feesla juice (but not potent enough to flay a man, mostly). But first, he needed to provide an opening for the feesla juice to go. On the stomach, since that would be the most beneficial to Marrenl's plan. And he would explain to his canvas what he was doing. If nothing else, it would be a change in his script. He really did want to know that name to give to the High Ancestral Priests and they could locate and punish the demon, unbelieving scholar, he thought with such venom. All scholars who did not work to further worship of the Ancestors deserved to dies especially those that put for the new knowledge or anything that contradicted what the Ancestors taught. Only the Ancestors had the capacity for true and new knowledge. Mere mortals could only learn from the Ancestors, if the Ancestors saw fit to share knowledge and they only saw fit to share a small portion. That portion was carefully guarded by the High Priests and the Interrogators.

"The first cut I'm about to make is to allow the feesla juice to have more contact with the nerve endings in your skin. Plus, it will serve as a reminder, should you live, of me. Of what the Ancestors are capable of doing to those who refuse to worship them as they so richly deserve. Of the fact that I now own you until I decide what to do with you. Two more cuts and then the feesla juice. It would be in your best interest for you to tell me his name. Now. I might just forget about the feesla juice. Being an Interrogator, however, I just can't forget the cuts. Those are mandatory. Are you ready to tell me his name?"

John kept silent. He was doing all this for Rodney, to keep him safe, and away from these bastards. All of this was worth it as long as they never touched, never found, never saw Rodney. Rodney was safe and that knowledge gave him strength. Silence reigned.

Interrogator Marrenl knew the unbeliever would not answer. Oh well, he shrugged. More fun this way, he smiled internally and completed the next two cuts on John's stomach. The pain only elicited a grunt in response. Next came the feesla juice.

To John, the knife cuts though painful were bearable. But this, this was more than pain, more than burning, more than scarring. He had no word for what he felt was beyond the ability to think, to scream them out hoping to find some coherence, some logic, some meaning to what was happening to him, what his soul was feeling. But words were useless and screams were all he heard.

Marrenl poured more feesla juice into the cut, setting everything anew. Pain, burning, and screaming. Especially screaming. He liked it when they screamed. It was such a demonstration of his excellent skill. He reveled in the screaming. He also knew he couldn't let it go on too long of the subject would lose the ability to speak. And then subject needed enough of a voice to answer his questions.

Soon Marrenl would have his answers. And the priest and the Ancestors would reward him for his work. He had been rewarded before but this time with the answers he would receive greater recognition, maybe become Lead Interrogator or even Great Master Interrogator. But answers first or his ambition would be for naught. Success was necessary, not failure.

John was still screaming, fighting the bonds that held him to the table, fighting to get away, to escape from how own skin. He figured that if he got away maybe the indescribable 'pain' feeling, the more than fire burning feeling, the more than soul stealing feeling would stop. That he might be able to live because he was sure as hell believed he wasn't going to live now. He was going to die. He wanted to die just so all this would end.

Marrenl stood, observing and relishing. He didn't think a third round of the feesla juice was going to be necessary though it could be fun. He thought about tossing a geffa and determining the matter that way. He had to be careful because he still wanted answers but even a few drops would be enough. It was decided. A few more drops of feesla juice and then he would get his answers. And in the mean time he would enjoy the fruits of his labor. Taking pride in his work was important as to keep his skills honed and improve his technique. Plus, it would earn him a place with the Ancestors.

John was quite ready to die. He saw dying as the only possible solution to the situation. All he could see, his entire life experience, his worldview was shrunk entirely to the effect the feesla juice has on him. He couldn't conceive of anything else except dying. And that's what he intended to do as soon as he could stop or the feesla juice stopped affecting him. Now, now, he was wither going to hold on or let go. Not much else mattered. Not that he could think about much else.

Marrenl tilted his head. What was that sound? Had he really heard something or was he letting himself get distracted? He listened, hearing nothing but John's screams and thrashing. No, he was imagining things. He was so close to getting his answers he was feeling a little let down. He wanted things to go on longer. He hadn't had a good feesla juice experiment in ages. Oh well, he would just have to go slower with the next one, maybe try a combination of concentration and maybe different cut placements. Oh, that sounded like fun. He couldn't wait.

This time the sound was louder. But what would have the audacity to interrupt his work? And why now? Well, the guards could handle it. That's what they were there for, wasn't it?

Then not only did it get loud but bright and wall were exploding around him. And then he knew no more.

Ronon Dex, greater warrior born for the Sateda Clan and born to the Lantean Clan, waited for some of the dust to settle before for searching for his clanbrother. He didn't want to be in this hellhole any longer than he had to. Plus, he had promised his clanbrother Rodney that he would bring John back from the Ancestor worshippers as soon as he could. They all hated the Ancestor worshippers but none more so than Ronon, John, and Teyla of the born for Athos Clan and the same born to Clan, not after what they did to Rodney.

Ronon took the anger that flared and channeled into looking for John. He wasn't doing this just for Rodney though that was the primary reason. John was also his bondbrother and the one that had adopted him to the Clan at the Rite of Joining. And John was his best friend, had helped him through some tough times, especially after finding out that several faction of the Satedan Clan had become Ancestor worshippers and had tried to hurt Rodney. It had been bad enough when Rodney had been taken the first time but to have members of Ronon's own born for clan try to do the same had caused Ronon considerable heartache, pain, and loss. He had nearly killed himself to restore honor and order to the Satedan Clan until John, at the behest of Rodney, had talked him out of it. John had saved his life it was only fair he saved John's.

Ronon saw the body of the Interrogator first but made no move to go near it since he could already tell that he was dead. Plus, he was an Interrogator and didn't deserve any help anyways. Then he saw John strapped on the table.

Most of the feesla juice had done its job and had poured off John onto the floor. However, some still remained in the open cuts on John's stomach. And the cuts were raw with edges like seared meat. It made Ronon nauseous to look at but he forced the bile back down and stepped over some of the rubble to cut John free. He would have to carry John out of here and keep the cuts protected, especially form dust and debris until mage-healer Carson Beckett could analyze the extent of the damage and heal John.

John was barely aware of anything that was going on until he realized that he could move his arms and legs and that his worldview seemed to have broadened. It also seemed to smell of wood smoke and leather, not unlike his clanbrother Ronon. But he couldn't be here, could he?

Though he had little strength left, John wheezed out a, "R'non? That you?"

He felt the rumble of the quiet chuckle, heard the huff of breath, and, "Yeah, it's me. Had to get you out of trouble again. You know, Rodney is thinking of putting you on a leash and keeping you tied to a post in the village. Says you get into too much trouble when you're out of his sight."

"Oh, he does, does he?" John responded back though still weak.

Then, a thought. "You're not carrying me, are you?"

That got him an outright chuckle.

They were nearing the location of the rest of the clan warriors let by Evan Lorne, of the born for Terra Clan and born to Lantean Clan, were helping other Interrogators prisoner or triaging other prisoners who had been tortured. But they weren't staying long and Interrogators' live weren't going to exist for much longer. The only good Interrogator was a dead and decapitated one. The lesser clan warriors would handle that while the rest would transport any survivors back to the transports and back to their home planet and village to be take care of by the mage-healers.

There weren't many survivors, not when they were victims of Interrogators because they always killed. Ancestor worshippers. It was part of their cruel belief system. No one could live otherwise the truth about the Ancestors and their worshippers. Not that people did not already know, but they were still able to make converts to their beliefs on many worlds.

Ronon, with John still in his arms (he intended to carry him all the way home, for Rodney), and the other three survivors with the help of clan warriors, settled themselves on the transport. Ronon knew John was in a lot of pain but also didn't want to appear weak in front of stranger or his warriors. While Ronon had wrapped John's wound in bandages and wrapped his own coat around John, John was still in pain and very weak. He needed to rest, to focus on healing, not be watching everything that was going on. He could cause himself more damage if he wasn't careful. Ronon was going to have to get John to rest and soon or he wouldn't survive the trip through the Great Ring.

"Go to sleep, John. I've got your back," Ronon said in a low voice only John could hear. "If you don't sleep, Carson will keep you in the healing house as long as he wants. And you won't be able to see Rodney. Or fly the new Pegasus beast that has been gifted to the village. Mage-Healer Carson will keep you grounded." Ronon went for the below the belt approach and decided not to pull any punches because John wouldn't appreciate it and it was the only way to get John to cooperate.

"That's low," John wheezed back but he knew he didn't have much energy left and what little he did was draining fast. Normally, he would have fought with Ronon, but he was fading. And he knew he could trust Ronon to watch over him and keep him safe till he was in Carson's hands. Hel, he'd just plain switch if he had to. "Okay," replied John, closing his eyes and drifting off.

Break

When he next opened his eyes, he knew he was in the healing house from the smells and the sounds. Plus, the gentle breeze that wafted in carrying the faint scent of jenja flowers. He was home.

"J-J-J-John?" he heard from his right side. He turned his head to see Rodney, still in his sleeping robes, sitting on a chair next to his bed. The soft yet with scratchy sheets that Carson always put him whenever he landed in the healing house. Mage-Healer Carson, also of the born to Lantean Clan and the born for Terra Clan and also born for and born to the Great Mage and Great Healer subclans, had definitely figured out what had happened to John and had already healed most of the damage. He could still feel the twinges of healing broken bones and other bruises but the cuts and pain from the feesla juice were numb and already scarred over.

"Yes, brother, it's me Rodney," John croaked out.

Rodney tipped the water to John's lips and John took a few sips before Rodney pulled it away.

"Are-are-are you-you-you-you alright John?" Rodney asked.

John smiled at Rodney and sighed. Rodney normally didn't stammer and stutter this much except when he was worried or scared. It was a result of what had happened when the Ancestor worshippers had taken Rodney as a child. Rodney had learned to control it and it didn't appear at all when talking about a new discovery or experiment (John was grateful for that. He never wanted to see Rodney lose that enthusiasm and love for his work and studies) but still came out when he was worried or scared especially if it involved John, Ronon (who knew they would become best friends when they had nothing really in common), or Teyla.

"Yes Rodney, I'm fine. I am now," replied John. "Are you okay? Radek and Ronon didn't eat any more swamp light fliers again, did they?"

That got him the smile and giggles he was hoping for.

"No. They didn't. I'm okay. Actually, my latest experiment with Radek went well beyond expectations and we should be able to apply the results soon. Maybe even next week if the Elders approve it sooner then next week's council meeting." All of that came out in one excited breathe. Rodney was fine and gearing up for one of his explanations. Everything was fine and he was home.

Carson came bustling in carrying a tray of food and several of his special salves and bandages. When John saw the stew and bread, he realized he was quite hungry even if it meant he had to endure wound change to get it. Carson could be sneaky and manipulative when he wanted and he always seemed to want to when John was one of his patients.

"And how are you feeling, lad?" Carson cheerfully asked. "You're not to be moving around until I say so. They did a right mean mischief on you and it took more of my ability than usual to put you back together and I don't want you undoing my handiwork. That was nasty business, I tell you, and I'll not be doing it again, understood?"

John didn't really care. He was home. He was safe as was Rodney and the rest of the clan. He didn't mind being under Carson's care for a while. Well, only a while. It would give him a chance to practice his disappearing skills. Rodney and other would help, if only to join in the trouble.

"Loud and clear, Carson. Loud and clear."


End file.
